


Growing up

by KendraPendragon



Series: My tumblr writing [60]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, From friends to lovers, Jealousy, not an easy transition, pain of growing up, sherlock and molly have been friends since childhood, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 03:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16276991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: Sherlock and Molly have been best friends since childhood. But now they are teenagers and start feeling all these confusing things that scare them both. Without intend they hurt each other more and more.Will they lose each other?





	1. Bubblegum Ring

_Tap tap tap_

Sherlock’s heart annoyingly skipped a beat. He turned in his chair, knowing to find Molly outside crouching on the roof of the garage. 

Irrational, hormonal, annoying, confusing Molly Hooper. 

There she was. 

She looked at him, gave an apologetic half-smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 

Sherlock sighed and got up to let her in, like he has done ever since she was able to climb the apple tree in the garden. As she climbed in he remembered the first time she sat out there, smiling so proudly, her still chubby cheeks glowing from the excercise, eyes bright like stars, and for a second he wished themselves back to this time, pre-puberty, when it all was simple fun and mischief. 

But those days were gone now. They were in the deep heap of puberty hell where nothing made sense anymore. Now she had breasts and he looked at them, wondered about them, had those horrible dreams that made him wake up with tented sheets. 

It all was so damn confusing. 

And she made it even worse with her  _emotions_. 

  
For a moment they stood there, not looking at each other, feeling awkward in a room they had built forts in, had run chemical experiments which had almost blown up the house and had countless of sleepovers in the bed behind them. 

Just as he thought of all the blissful nights in which he had felt Molly’s warmth and her little hand in his as they had whispered stories to each other crossed his mind, Molly let out a breath and lay down on said bed. 

Sherlock looked at her. He didn’t like what he saw now, didn’t like noticing her breasts underneath her shirt or the curve of her hips in these jeans, the flat belly, her thighs…

_Fucking puberty…_

Why couldn’t they be normal anymore? 

Why couldn’t they be friends anymore?

He wanted his best friend back. He wanted to hang out like they used to. He wanted to have her sleep in his bed and hold his hand without this… _tension_ between them. 

He wanted this so bad.

But as soon as Molly put an arm behind her head and her body arched  _just so_ he knew it would never be.

Finally, he lay down next to her on his side, feeling sad. 

Her sweet scent filled his nose. Her body heat made him shift closer. The sunlight danced in her hair and he reached out to pull a strand out of her loose bun and play with it like he had done a million times, yet this also felt different now. 

Their eyes met for a second and his heart instantly beat faster. He hated that, too. 

Molly pulled her arm from under her head, getting more comfortable on his pillow. Well,  _her_ pillow. They were lying on her side. She had a side in his bed. He only had gotten a double bed because his parents knew Molly slept over regularly. Had slept over. They had stopped doing that three months ago, almost immediately after Irene had moved here and became their classmate. 

Molly hadn’t slept in this room ever since Irene had been in here.

Sherlock had never made this connection before. Now, after this ridiculous scene at the party on Saturday, it was more than obvious. 

“I’m sorry I slapped you”, Molly finally spoke, her voice only a whisper. 

Sherlock nodded, finding his throat dry and her hair between his fingers too distracting to find words. 

“I don’t want to lose you”, she whispered next and Sherlock’s heart clenched, feeling exactly the same. “You’re my best friend, Sherlock.”

His name never sounded as beautiful as when she said it. It was not the purr Irene used to flirt with him. It was…sweet. Pure. Soft. Caring. 

_…Fucking puberty…_

Molly swallowed hard and Sherlock stared at her long, elegant neck. His mouth ran dry. 

“So”, Molly continued, “I had a hard look at myself and realized that this is all my fault. I…I’m jealous, Sherlock.”

His eyes darted down to her as a shiver spread in his chest. 

Molly looked up at him, giving him a brave half smile. 

“All my life I had you to myself. We are best friends ever since I saved your life on the playground.”

They shared a smile. 

She didn’t save him from starving, all tangled up in the swing chains the bullies had tied him up in. They argued about this to this day, neither willing to give in, Sherlock still trying to convince her that he would have very well managed to free himself in time, crying or not. 

Molly’s smile faded, taking his with it. 

“But we’re not children anymore.”

She sounded as sad about that as he felt. 

Her eyes darted down to his neck and she lifted her hand to pull his necklace out of his shirt. The pull on his neck as she pushed the tip of her ring finger through the little ring was so familiar, yet it somehow hurt to feel it now. 

Their engagement ring. 

She had gotten it from a gum ball machine when they were seven and instead of wearing it herself, had pushed it on his ring finger, declaring they were husband and wife now. 

Sherlock had worn this ring until he had been beaten up for it. Molly had insisted to take it off then. He had cried bitterly, not wanting their ‘marriage’ to end. His mother had gotten him a chain so he could wear it around his neck. The chain he was wearing now he had bought not a year ago. Even at seventeen, the thought of not wearing her ring hadn’t even occured to him. 

Until now. 

He knew what she would say next. She was still looking at it, gently playing with it with her fingers. 

_Don’t ask this of me._

Everything inside him begged her not to say it, to rewind, to go back to the days when they were the husband and wife. 

But of course she didn’t listen. She never did. He told her several times he wasn’t in love with Irene, he just was fascinated by her for she was clever and mysterious and alright, beautiful. That’s what he had said on that party. He thought the beautiful part was what made her slap him. He still wasn’t sure. They never talked about their fights. They hardly ever talk these days. 

Molly’s brown eyes interrupted his thoughts. 

His insides churned. 

_  
Don’t. Just don’t._

  
That half smile again. 

_  
Molly!_

 

“I think it’s time to take this off.”


	2. Holding on

Mr. Hooper opens the door and gives him a sad smile that looks exactly like their daughter’s.

“Is she here?” 

He gives him a nod that bids him in. Sherlock nods curtly and steps inside and without further ado climbs the stairs to Molly’s room. 

Mrs. Hooper enters the hallway and looks after him. Her husband puts an arm around her shoulder. 

“Shouldn’t we talk to them?” she asks, worried for both of them. 

“They have to figure this out on their own, honey.”

“But-”

“They will. They’re soulmates.”

At this, Mrs. Hooper chuckles and cuddles up to her husband. “You old romantic.”

“Guilty as charged”, he chuckles, the last word interrupted by a cough. 

+++

Sherlock pauses in front of her door, taking a deep breath. He’s tired, so tired. He misses her. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and rests his forehead against the wood of the door; bracing himself for more  _emotions_. Of course a part of him wants to leave, but she’s his best friend. And she’s unhappy. Which makes him unhappy. 

So he knocks. No response. He enters anyway. The door falls close behind him and he looks around. The room seems empty. She’s neither on her bed, nor at her desk, nor in the little cozy nook where they’ve cuddled many, many times, reading the same book or doing homework together. 

Another deep breath and Sherlock sinks to the floor. Molly’s hiding under her bed, which she only does when she is heartbroken. Their eyes meet. She tears up and squeezes her eyes shut. 

“I don’t want to be this girl”, she sobs and hides her face with her hand. “I’m so confused. And so sad. All the time. I can’t do this anymore.”

She’s crying now, even worse than when her cat died three years ago. Her sobs are so painful, his entire chest is hurting and he can’t bear it. His hand reaches under the bed and grabs hers. Her fingers are trembling. 

When she opens her eyes they’re red and swelling. 

“Please…please let me go.”

His bottom lip quivers and his hold on her hands tightens. This is about the ring. He refused to take it off. They fought, she stormed out. They haven’t talked in almost a month. 

With a heartbreaking sob she jerks her hand back, but he doesn’t let go. Every cell in his body tells him to hang on; to their friendship…to her. 

“Let me go”, she whispers desperately and she yanks again. 

“Never.”

It bursts out of him, more a sob than a word. She looks at him and his tears fall. His heart is breaking, he can feel it. Her big brown eyes are so full of pain it’s killing him. 

“Please, Sherlock…I can’t…it hurts so much.”

The words are cut off and she crumbles into tears right in front of him. She is slipping through his fingers, their friendship is falling apart. They aren’t friends anymore. They’ve grown out of it and now, on the brink of adulthood, they have to decide whether they part of become more. So much more it scares them both to death, because the feelings for each other have become so bloody intense. 

Seeing Molly like this, Sherlock can see the risk so clearly. If this doesn’t work out…it will scar them for the rest of their lives. 

…Yet he can’t imagine a life without her. He doesn’t want to. 

So, with a drumming heart and near panic, he crawls under the bed with her and pulls her into his arms. Maybe it’s out of habit, but Molly slings her arms around him and presses herself against him until there is no inch of air between them. A finger hooks into the silver chain around his neck and for a second he dreads that she will break it, taking back her ring. His hand darts up, stops her before she can hurt him. 

“It’s mine”, he whispers into her hair, urgent and almost angry, squeezing her fingers, “I’ve worn it for ten years and I will wear it for the rest of my life. It’s mine. Mine.” His lips wander down as he speaks, over her forehead, along her cheekbone, to her ear. Her scent is in his nose, he is drowning in her warmth and he never wants to leave her ever again. 

“We’re married! I’m yours! Forever!”

Molly whimpers and Sherlock realises that he’s squishing her hand. He lets go of her hand to wrap his arm around her back to press her to him, burying his face in her neck. 

One more time she tries to get away. He doesn’t let her. He never will. 

She weeps for a long time and Sherlock sheds a few more tears himself. But although it hurts, this feels right; holding her, comforting her, stroking her back and hair and placing soft kisses on her hot skin. 

When she finally falls silent and relaxes in his arms, he dares to move back a little, for the air aorund them is overly hot and he can barely breathe. In silence they stare at each other, holding hands. 

They don’t speak one more word that night, fall asleep just like this.

 

Sherlock never lets go of her hand, not even in sleep. 


End file.
